


a lovely voice (is such as such)

by weatheredlaw



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, F/M, Muteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Then be careful with her, please. She wears more than just one kind of armor."</i>
</p><p>or: Cassandra's voice is stolen. Varric tries to get it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a lovely voice (is such as such)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't? Know what's wrong with me? I'm a little enamored with these weird tropes right now, I'm really sorry.

Ariel: But without my voice how can I--  
Ursula: You'll have your looks, your pretty face. And don't underestimate the importance of _body language_.  
\-- from _The Little Mermaid_

* * *

Maker take them all, Cassandra was a woman possessed. 

She could bear to suffer through many things. The loss of her lover, her brother, her family. She had seen death rise up like a tidal wave and come crashing down on those who least deserved it. She had witnessed the aftermath of war, and felt the loss of Justinia deep inside.

But _this._

This was... _Maker_ , how could she describe it when she had no words, the noises deftly stolen from her like a ghost in the night, the witch's hands holding the bright essence of her voice like a gem between her fingers. 

"So _strong_ ," she'd said. "So _powerful._ I could burn you with your own voice. I could conquer with your voice." She laughed, ugly and frightening and Cassandra had nothing to say. "I could raise the _dead_ with your voice." With a silent roar, Cassandra raised her sword, but the witch was gone, as suddenly as she'd come. 

She hear the footfall of the Inquisitor and the others behind her, gasping as they tried to catch up. "Andraste's _tits_ , Cassandra, you can't just _chase_ things." Cassandra couldn't face her. Couldn't face any of them.

"Seeker?" Varric's words snuck up on her, and she felt the familiar grip of his hand on her arm. His voice was rich, she realized now. He sounded like honey, like a thick, sweet haze of the day. Rough, still, around the edges, but gentle all the same. All the nights they'd spent together, and she only noticed now. "What happened?" He knew, she thought. Of course he knew. Cassandra finally looked at him, but couldn't smile. Couldn't truly meet his gaze.

"The _Seeker_ went into the woods," a voice called from the trees.

_Her voice._

"What--"

"The Seeker went into the woods and met a clever witch." Cassandra gripped her sword, hard. "She thought she could slay her, but she wasn't _quick_ enough. It matters not. I was never a warrior, but I can sing like one, now." The witch stepped out of the shadows again. "Try to attack me, it will do you no good."

"She..." Dorian stepped closer. "You've taken her _voice._ "

"Are you as smart as you are pretty, mage?" The witch laughed. "Don't answer. And don't fret, love." She looked at Cassandra, the words so foreign on her tongue. "You'll learn how to manage. The mouth has _other_ uses." With a crack, she was gone, and they were alone again, the deafening silence engulfing them.

 

 

 

It took some time for Cassandra to piece together what had happened. Varric insisted she write it down, but the words suddenly could not come to her. All she could pen was a frantic, _**can't think**_ , before she ran from him. Below the folds of the keep, she hid, until she could not bear her cowardice any longer, and went to his room. He wasn't there, but it felt good to be wrapped in familiarity, so she took off her boots and armor, and laid down in his bed to sleep.

Varric had asked her once how she managed it, to sleep and dream at once. She could not answer, but she understood, now, the pain of it. She screamed in her dreams, and woke up in silence, Varric's hands shaking her awake. 

" _Cassandra!_ " He held her face in his hands and pulled her close. "You were...you had a nightmare."

 _Varric. Varric--_ She mouthed his name against the side of his cheek, and sobbed.

"It's alright," he said. "It's going to be alright."

 _It won't be. It cannot be._ But nothing came out, and he wasn't looking, so he didn't know.

* * *

It was early when Varric set out from Skyhold, Dorian and Bull hot on his heels. The Graves was a wicked place, he'd decided. The beauty there was a false one, and he would burn it to the ground sooner than visit it again.

But he had to, this morning. He had to find the witch with Cassandra's voice.

"She could be gone," Bull said, but Dorian clucked his tongue.

"I sensed something while we were there. A barrier. I don't think we can truly get in, but I'm fairly certain she can't get _out_ either. A curse, perhaps."

"Why take the Seeker's voice?"

"Maybe it's a way to dissolve the barrier. She was enamored with it, you should have seen her--"

Varric held up a hand. "Shh. We're here." It was the same spot, Varric knew it well enough already. Carefully, he paced the spot where Cassandra had stood, looking into the trees. "You there, witch? Come out so we can _talk._ "

" _Ugh._ You are too _loud_ ," the voice called, but it was not Cassandra's. "Whatever do you want, dwarf? Your lover's voice? Do you _miss_ it at night? No one to scream your name while you attempt to navigate her body? Tell me, is it fun?"

"Oodles." 

The witch appeared before them, but Varric realized she was some feet away, pacing the same line. "You're a _riot._ But I can't give it back to you, there's work to be done with it."

"So give it back when you're done."

"It'll be destroyed," she snapped. "I must destroy it, to break this--" She suddenly screeched, gripping her head and falling to the ground. There was nothing they could do -- Dorian reached forward, but he had been right. There was a barrier in place. When the witch stopped screamed, she pushed herself up on shaking limbs. "I cannot--" She fell again, but looked at them. "I cannot _speak_ of it. It will--" She gasped as the voice left her, dissipating into the air and going out with a tiny breath. Dorian suddenly grabbed at his throat, and the witch opened her mouth and spoke with his voice. "The Seeker's words will be my weapon, with all the others I've stolen."

"If we broke this barrier for you, could the voices be saved."

The witch shrugged. "Perhaps. No one has ever tried." She thrust her hand in the air and Dorian groaned as his voice was returned to him.

"You? Without people to help you? I wonder how _that_ could ever happen," he rasped. "We will return with answers. Daft old broad."

The witch was voiceless, now, but she smile as they walked away, and disappeared with a resounding snap.

 

 

 

Leliana was not impressed that they had gone off the meet a witch of the woman's caliber alone. "Men," she muttered, but shuffled papers around on her makeshift desk and gestured for Varric to sit. "I do not know what we can do to solve this. I've been with Cassandra, she's...holding up as only she can."

"Morrigan--"

"Is in the Exalted Plains with Vivienne. They will return in three days, I sent word ahead to them. In the meantime, Cassandra's life does not appear to be in danger, and if the witch has offered you some time before she uses her stolen voices as some sort of weapon, then we shouldn't have to worry." Leliana sighed. "I know you love her, but you must let her _be_ , Varric."

"She's a wreck."

"If she gave you a moment of her weakness, she will be ashamed later. It is Cassandra's way. I know that she is downstairs hacking at those dummies, and she'll seem normal to you. But be careful. She doesn't have to give you anything, and you have not known her the way you do long enough to make demands--"

"I don't demand things from her, and I never intend to. I only want to help."

Leliana smiled. "It is no wonder you took up so well with Cole. If you'd like to help, bring her this." She turned and reached into a chest and pulled out a box. "It is a kind of tea, from Nevarra. She claims to miss nothing of home, but it will warm her, I promise. She loves you."

"I know."

"Then be careful with her, please. She wears more than just one kind of armor."

* * *

A week after she'd lost her voice, Cassandra felt as back to normal as she could be. She had resumed her regular duties for the most part, but Cullen had begun attending her training sessions with the recruits and seemed to understand to an extent what she was trying to say. She drew him diagrams and Cole helped her practice -- he knew what she needed to vocalize, but could not precisely communicate it, for reasons Cassandra didn't understand.

"Voice gone, can't get through, the words are only in my mind--" Cole hopped off the edge of the fence around the sparring ring. "You are sad, Lady Cassandra. I could fix it." Cassandra's eyes grew wide. "If no one remembered you had a voice, if you never remembered--"

"Kid." Varric came behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know you wanna help, but that's not the way to do it. I'll take it from here."

"I think you should. She misses your hands." Cole disappeared and Cassandra felt a blush creep over her neck. She _had_ been thinking of Varric's hands that morning, missing the roughness of them, how they could melt into gentle touches with such ease. She longed to have them on her, inside her, twisted in her hair, combing through the loose strands of her braid--

"Cassandra." Varric reached for her and she went to him. "I have something for you." She frowned and he laughed. "I know, you don't like surprises, but I think I can do something for you." He took her hand in his -- _Maker, these hands_ \-- and led her to his room. A familiar scent met her when she stepped inside. He'd opened the windows and sunlight poured into the space, landing on a spot by the fireplace where he'd set up a table and a cup of tea. "Leliana said you...she gave this to me." He shook a little tin on his desk. Cassandra crossed the room and lifted the cup in her hands, breathing in the scent.

 _My mother made this tea for my father every morning. Anthony carried it with him wherever he went. When I was a girl and alone, I coveted a cloth bag full of it, but couldn't bring myself to drink it. I cried the day it lost its scent._

She took a sip, the warmth flooding her mouth. She laughed, but it was silent, and Varric's voice when he said her name was worried. She must have looked like she was crying.

Holding the cup in her hand, pulled him to her, opening her mouth to thank him, and finding nothing. It didn't seem to matter, she couldn't remember that it had left her, the words were gone now, the sounds all wrong -- 

She heard something snap, the sharp sound of china on wood, and the tea spilled all over their boots. 

" _Shit._ " Varric reached down to pick up the pieces, glancing up at her. "Cassandra--"

The laughter had gone, and she did cry, now, she really did. The floor met her knees, tea seeped into the cloth of her breeches, she gripped Varric's tunic in her hand and covered her mouth, unable to stop herself. How was it possible to feel so _empty?_ The witch had robbed her of this one thing, and only now did she realize how much she needed it. 

"It's okay."

_It is not._

"Seeker, c'mere." Varric pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to her temple. "I love you."

 _Please, I cannot say it._ She held fast to his tunic, burying her face against the fabric. The scent of it calmed her, made her feel at ease and in love, the way she always seemed to feel when he was near her. _Touch me, I need you to touch me, I need to feel you--_

His hands slid over her shoulders, resting at her waist. "I want you," he murmured in to her ear. Cassandra shuddered against him. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes and said, "Will you come to bed with me?" She nodded. His eyes were dark, voice low, the way it was when he spoke filthy, promising things to her. Cassandra urged him up and toward his bed and began stripping out of her clothes. "Whoa, _whoa--_ " He laughed and brought his hands up to her face and kissed her. "Slow down, it's alright. We've got time." Sighing, he pulled her onto the bed and loosened the sash around his waist. "I've missed this," he admitted. "Missed _you._ "

It had been some time since they'd made love, Cassandra realized. Even before the witch. They'd been busy, she'd been distracted, he'd been trying to make up for Bianca, for so many things, and needed more space than Cassandra alone could give him. So many days she'd woken to find he'd gone off alone, walked the mountains, written in the crooks of trees. He admitted to praying, only to her, under the cover of darkness wine-wet lips pressed to her neck. 

Cassandra gently pushed the tunic from his shoulders, pressing her lips to the bend of his neck. Varric brought his hands under her blouse, the fabric pooling at his wrist as he lifted it over her head. Carefully, he undressed her, moving down her body until his lips rested at the bend of her knee, and he kissed her there, wet before he blew air against it and smiled. His hands slid over her bare feet, cupped her ankle and traveled up her legs again. 

"I've told you you're incredibly, haven't I?" Cassandra nodded, laying her head back against the pillows. He made to put his mouth over her, but Cassandra stopped him, pulling him up until his cock brushed against her entrance. "What--" She wrapped her hand around him, guided him toward her. "You want--"

 _I want you to fuck me._ She wanted to say the filthiest things, want to _be wanton_ with him, have him inside her and fill her. She wanted and needed and craved and could not _say_ it, but Varric -- Maker, Varric _knew_ and he nodded, carefully taking her legs and balancing him on his shoulders as he took his cock and pressed inside her. 

"All or nothing?" he asked, and she nodded. " _Shit._ " He looked lost for a moment before finally, _finally_ , he rolled his hips and thrust inside her. "Again?" Another nod. And Varric began to fuck her in earnest, now, the slow, sticky slide of his cock keeping her grounded. He moaned, said her name, began to move faster. Cassandra pleaded silently for more and he knew exactly how to give it to her. It ended sooner than she'd have liked, but Varric never left her wanting for release. He came with a groan, but held himself inside of her as he brushed his thumb against her clit, and pushed, circled, until Cassandra clenched around him, mouth open in a silent scream. Varric pulled out, ducking his head to kiss the sweat-slicked skin of her stomach. "I'm going to fix this," he said quietly. 

_How can you?_

He looked at her. "Do you trust me?" She nodded. "I'll fix this."

_I am not broken._

"I'll get your voice back."

She bit her lip as he sat up to get water for them both, kissing her knee as he went. _Do not promise something you cannot owe, you fool dwarf._

* * *

"Alright," Dorian called out. "We've come here with a _plan._ "

They'd brought the Inquisitor this time, along with Morrigan. "There's no one here, Pavus," the Inquisitor said. "Are you sure you've remembered it right?"

Morrigan stepped forward and put her hand on the enchantment barring their path. "They have. This barrier is quite strong, too. What is this creature, then, who took the Seeker's voice?"

"A witch."

Morrigan laughed. "You find some haggard apostate in the woods who steals with magic and you call her a _witch?_ You insult me," she said, but did not seem put out. She raised an eyebrow with the woman appeared, then turned to Varric. "That isn't a witch. She isn't even a mage."

" _You!_ " The woman hissed, drew back. "You brought _her!_ You said you wanted to help, you _said_ \--"

Varric looked at Morrigan. "What's happening?"

"She isn't a witch, or even a human. She's a demon. A clever one, and very old."

"Abomination!" the woman screeched, and Morrigan laughed.

" _Thief_. You were imprisoned here by someone who couldn't kill you, and you've been robbing people of their voices, trying to break this wall to pieces. But you can't. You've been doing it for years probably. You _disgust me._ " The demon flew back in a rage and vanished. "The mage that trapped that thing here was a fool. It would be easy to fall into this trap. I pity the Seeker." Morrigan looked up. "The barrier is complete."

"Like a dome," Dorian said. Morrigan nodded. "Then we need to find some way to dissolve it. It won't break head on."

Morrigan began walking away, ignoring them until they could no longer see the demon's hiding spot. Quietly, she said, "We'll stay at the camp tonight. Send word to your other mages. We're going to break it down, but the demon cannot know. She'll waste the voices, and our work will be for nothing. Have them bring the Seeker."

Varric nodded and went to fetch a crow. He tried his best to keep his hands steady as he wrote the message. They weren't far from the keep, but even if they left tonight, it would take a day of riding for Solas and Vivienne to reach them. Varric didn't know if he could wait, but he would have to. Andraste preserve them all, he would _have_ to.

* * *

Cassandra would admit later to enjoying Solas and Vivienne on their journey. They were sharp, and fast riders, and neither seemed keen to waste time. She rode behind them, listening to their discussions on apostates and the Circle. Vivienne, while opposed to the way Solas lived his life in general -- "Those _clothes_ , my dear." -- seemed to respect his knowledge, and Solas felt the same. It took an entire night of riding to reach the Inquisition camp by daybreak. Cassandra was relieved to see Varric already up, and he met her with a smile, helping her off her mount. 

"We've got this figured out," he said. "We're getting your voice back."

Cassandra squeeze his hand, and walked beside them as they made their way to the barrier.

The demon was waiting, pacing in front of them with cold eyes. Whatever body she'd taken, it looked sick. The anxiety, Cassandra assumed. It knew what they were doing. 

"You cannot kill me," it said, and this time it spoke in Cassandra's voice. "I'll destroy her." Another voice now. "And him." Another. "I'll destroy them all."

The Inquisitor stepped forward. "You are ugly as sin, and I'm sorry. But in case you didn't get the memo, we don't march if we intend to fail. So shut the hell up and hold still. This will probably hurt." The Inquisitor held out her hand, and within the barrier, she began to open a rift. 

"What magic is this? What are you?"

"I'm the fucking Herald of Andraste. You made my Seeker _cry._ I'm going to rip you to pieces, you piece of _shit._ " Cassandra felt pride well up in her. "But I'm going to let Cassandra do it."

"I'll ruin this!" The demon was using her voice again, but now Morrigan and the others had begun to dismantle the barrier, and the Inquisitor held on tight, keeping the demon secure with the rift magic. "I will destroy her words! I will destroy _her_ \--" The demon screeched using Cassandra's voice, and she felt pain grip every part of her.

"Seeker!" Varric ran to her, grabbed her arms, and suddenly gasped, choking. 

"I'll take yours too," the demon said in his voice. "I'll kill you with your own words. I'll suffocate you in your own sound." Varric put a hand to his throat -- he had stopped breathing, and the barrier was still standing. "You might destroy me. But I will kill him. I will take him from you, Seeker. Your voice told me what you wanted to say. _My mother made this tea for my father every morning. Please, I cannot say it. Do not promise what you cannot owe, you fool--_ " 

"Stop. _Talking._ " The Inquisitor wrenched the magic of the anchor, hard, and Cassandra felt something pooling in her throat. Varric gasped as his voice rushed back to him, and Cassandra bent to hold him. The barrier was coming down, she could see the sparks of magic on the edge of it. She could vault it, step into the demon's home and drive her sword through its pathetic body. She could -- 

"Together," Varric rasped, and he loaded Bianca and took aim. The barrier came down. He drew his shot and it took the demon in the shoulder, a scream erupting. Cassandra rushed, sword up, and when she brought it down, the demon expanded into its true form -- an envy demon, grotesque and pained. Cassandra rammed her sword through its chest and it gave one last howl. From its mouth, her voice lifted out. Cassandra breathed in. 

She screamed.

* * *

The demon had made its home in a hollow of trees and, when they looted the place, they found vial after vial, labeled and organized, of voices that had been taken along the road. The Inquisitor had them gathered up -- once Corypheus had been managed, they would see to it that these voices were returned to their owners. All in all, she told them, a pretty good day.

Varric figured it was a good deal -- you get to see the world saved, again, and you get your voice back. He wondered how many years it had been going on, how many people had died voiceless -- but was distracted by Cassandra's words in his ear. Depraved, filthy, needy, all of the above -- Varric turned and captured her lips in his own. 

"Told you I'd fix this," he said.

"I have already thanked you. Several times, in fact." Ah, Varric remembered each time in vivid detail. Spectacular moments, really. "But I suppose I could spare one more tonight."

"Oh? How generous of you."

"I love you," she murmured. She said to more, now, and Varric found he didn't mind at all. 

"Say it again."

"Won't you ever tire of it?"

"No," he said. He pulled her to him and kissed her again. "Never."

* * *

Cassandra said his name every chance she could. She told him how she felt every moment she could spare. She urged him on when he took her, made love to him with her words and her body, and never grew tired of their bickering. In some years, she would look back on it and say it made them closer, made her love him, the idea of the two of them, even more. Made their love into a _great_ one.

For now, it made it seem all the more real. Made their story worthy of legend, in her opinion.

Though perhaps she was biased, being the lover of the dwarf who would write their tale in time. It didn't matter. Whether he wrote their story or not, Cassandra knew -- she would find a way to tell it herself. 

She would not be silent again.


End file.
